"Memories"

Memories, lost between the bullshit of my lies
Memories, reported from the anchor's chair of mine

My helicopter was shot down
And settled softly to the ground
Like how I reported of my greatest feat
I changed them and they burst apart with sweet memories,
Sweet memories

Of watching floods that filled the streets
Of French Quarter in Katrina days
And telling lies and dramatic ways
Of floating bodies and scary days gone through

Memories, lost between the bullshit of my lies
Memories, reported from the anchor's chair of mine,
Memories, memories, sweet memories

And now I'm out at NBC
For being exposed for the fibs I say
And telling lies and dramatic ways
And now I am lost not knowing what I will do

Memories, lost between the bullshit of my lies
Memories, reported from the anchor's chair of mine,
Memories, memories, sweet memories

Memories
Build the corners of my lies
Fuzzy made up action memories
Was the way they heard

Shattered copters
Were the tales we left behind
Lies we told to one another
Was the way they heard

Can it be that it was all different then?
Or has truth now revealed every lie?
If we had the chance to tell them all again
Tell me, could we? should we?

Memories
May be beautiful and yet
They're too boring for reporting
Truth we're choosing to forget

So it's the slaughter
We are reporting
Whenever we're reporting
The way we heard
The way we heard